Aftermath
by majesticmcold
Summary: In the final battle, Steve wins but is wounded. He escapes with the help of Gannen, and they flee to a cave. Steve broods. They talk. Etc, etc. M for swearing. Implied Gannen/Steve.


It was a funny thing, this game. No one knew where the path led. Twist and turns led to the most unexpected of places: from a maze of sewers underneath an unsuspecting city; to a theatre, the site that changed so many lives - and ended them too; and finally to a stadium.

Sporting matches are held in stadiums. Was this sport? This bloodshed, this agony, this _war_? It had been fun at first - oh, it had been a laugh. Manipulating the strings; tugging them and watching with joy as they danced to his will. It made him happy to remember, over a well-earned glass of blood, how this entire war was centred around him - both races fighting bitterly for their lives, for the sake of their very existence, because of an age-old prophecy about _him_.

And he had been controlling it all.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the stab of a dagger, everything had slipped away from him and he realised he hadn't been the puppet master even for a _second_.

Fighting surrounded him, the sounds swallowing him whole; pools of blood seemed to be bigger than tidal waves as they crashed over him, clouding his vision in a haze of red. Groans reached his ears. It wasn't until later that he realised they was his.

'You're safe, my Lord.'

He had lost the ability to speak. Unintelligible noises escaped him, yet somehow the vampaneze carrying him knew what he meant. He always had.

'He is dead.'

Dead? He had won?

Steve twisted in Gannen's arms, attempting to get out of his grasp. He wasn't sure why - he knew he would be unable to walk. He just needed to see the truth for himself.

'Lemmego.'

'That would be unwise, my Lord.'

'Screw being wise!'

Steve felt Gannen's chuckle, but the vampaneze did not let go of the struggling half-vampaneze.

'I need - I need -' Steve moved too hard and pain washed over him again. It beckoned him to the darkness, and Steve had no choice but to follow.

—

The sound of a flame igniting gently roused him from his sleep. Steve's eyelids flickered open. Around him was darkness, except for the small fire that illuminated Gannen's purple face.

'Where -?'

'A cave. Somewhere. I'm not quite sure; I simply flitted until I was tired. Don't sit up,' Gannen added brusquely, even before Steve made the move. 'Your side is still mending.'

'I thought -' Steve coughed, swallowing a few times to ease his hoarse throat. 'I thought it was pretty serious.'

'You were in luck.'

'Luck,' Steve sighed. 'Gannen, my oldest friend is dead.'

'I know.'

'I killed him.'

'I know.'

What did Steve do now? Ever since he had been a teenager, all he could think about - all he had lived for - was getting his revenge. Now he had succeeded - _he had won!_ - what was there left? Defeating the rest of the vampires? Ruling the night as Lord of the Vampaneze?

Not bloody likely.

The vampaneze had been the means to an end. Sure, he had enjoyed lording over them all, prodding them all this way and that, but in the end, it had all come down to how we could use them in his quest for vengeance. How he could best use them to get to Darren.

_That bastard. That absolute shithead._

One of the first lessons he had learnt as a vampaneze was that they more or less did their own thing. One of the very reasons they broke away was because they hated the rigidity of the vampires. The Generals, the Princes - it was all so stiff and pompous. The vampaneze didn't like answering to someone. No matter how many times Gannen told him otherwise, Steve always harboured a suspicion that the vampaneze never cared for him. Resented him. Laughed at him. They were ancient, noble creatures of the night and Steve was nothing more than a skinny human with white hair and a cross on his hand.

Steve had never though they would take him seriously. Sure, they would follow him, do whatever he asked - but once the prophecy was complete, and the vampires extinguished, what then? Did he really expect them to answer to him then? What was there to answer _for_?

'Harst?'

'Yes, my Lord?'

'No, don't. Don't call me that.'

'But you're -'

'_I'm not your fucking Lord!_'

Gannen stood slowly, hands raised, placating. 'Don't overexert yourself. Do you want your wound to break?'

'No,' Steve mumbled sullenly. His steely eyes followed Gannen as he knelt down to set alight a pile of wood. 'Why are you still here?' the half-vampaneze asked harshly.

'Because I'm your Protector.'

Steve snorted. 'Protector against what? The Hunters are dead.'

'My brother isn't.'

'So? Do you think I care about your stinking brother?'

Gannen stood. 'What would you like me to do? Leave?'

'Yes! No. I dunno, just get us some food.'

'As you wish.'

Steve thought he caught the vampaneze smirking as he left the cave. _Dickhead._

—

'You won, but the vampaneze lost. There were too many vampires, and many of the vampets ran when they realised they could not win.'

Steve sat against the edge of the cave, frowning. They had been there a few days now - Gannen patiently waiting as Steve not-so-patiently mended, frustrated that he had no choice but to stay still. He was mostly mended now - a fact that was not overlooked by either of them.

Gannen recognised the look on Steve's face. It was his plotting face.

'So Tiny was wrong.'

'I don't think so. I think there's more to this -'

'Screw it.' Steve threw a rock against the back wall. It disappeared into the darkness. 'Screw Tiny and his prophecies.' Screw his so-called _father_. 'I'm sick of it. How about I do something for myself for a change?'

'Like what?'

_Like hatching an elaborate plan to exterminate the vampires_, was Steve's first thought. Anything that remained of Crepsley and Shan and their "legacy" had to go.

_Even in death, may you be triumphant._ Steve snorted.

'They're not going to follow me.'

Gannen remained silent.

'Especially not now, if we're going to be pushed to extinction anyway. Even though I won!' Steve let out a yell of frustration, jumping to his feet. He kicked a log out of the fire and bright flickering specks of orange and yellow darted around Steve's face.

The shadows danced.

Steve resisted the urge to complain how nothing ever went his way - it was pointless, and Gannen had heard it all anyway. 'They'll hate me,' Steve growled. 'They'll say I was a fake. They'll want me dead.'

The Vampaneze Lord turned to glare angrily at his Protector, as though daring him to contradict.

Gannen's eyes lowered. 'I fear you may be correct.'

Steve spat. Damn vampires. Damn vampaneze.

'Well, I'll just have to get them first, won't I?'

Gannen's ears pricked up. He wondered if he had imagined those softly-spoken words. But no - as Gannen's eyes met Steve's, he saw the familiar light flickering there. The light of purpose. Steve had his mind set, and no amount of advising would persuade him otherwise.

That didn't mean Gannen wasn't going to try.

The elder vampaneze vaulted to his feet 'You can't be serious.'

'Oh, but I am.'

'Even an army of vampaneze - and your little pets - couldn't win against them! What makes you think that you'll be any different?'

'Let's call it a hunch.' Steve grinned, but not with his eyes. 'Well, Harst? Are you with me? Or should I just kill you here?'

Gannen knew he should have struck Steve down where he stood. What he was talking about - going against their own kind - was _unthinkable_. It went against his very being.

But Gannen Harst was not ready to die just yet. And he was Steve's Protector. Steve was his Lord. He had made a promise - he had given his word. Gannen Harst would never take back his word.

He stepped forward, and Steve flinched a little. But all Gannen did was merely extend his hand towards him, over the fire.

'I'm feeling hungry, my Lord.'

Steve eyed the hand - then he smiled. A true smile. It was a shame, really. Steve enjoyed Gannen's company. He would regret killing him when the time came.

And it _would_ come. They both knew it.

Steve took Gannen's hand and shook it once. Then they walked out of the cave into the night.

'I think I'm going to have to change my title. Lord of the Vampaneze just doesn't cut it for me anymore.'

'Oh? And what were you thinking?'

'How about … _Lord of the Shadows?_ Has a nice ring to it, wouldn't you say?'

A chuckle escaped into the trees. 'You've always had a flair for the dramatics, my Lord.'


End file.
